Regrets & Persuasion
by MeerkatJo
Summary: A reworking of Sybil and Branson's story, set to the tune of Jane Austen's "Persuasion". Mostly S/B, but contains a whole menagerie of characters. Chapter two now up!
1. Prologue

**The idea of this jumped into my head today whilst I was watching Northanger Abbey, as I started to think of the similarities between Persuasion, another Jane Austen story, and the story of Sybil and Branson. So this is (obviously) AU, and each character is based on a character from Persuasion. But first...the prologue!**

**Jo x**

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Her heart felt like it was going to explode due to so much joy. Leaning against the worktop in the garage and leaning into his embrace, it felt like they had all the time in the world. She imagined that when push came to shove she would feel frightfully nervous; passing the time until tomorrow when she would escape this life. Escape this life with him. Now she was here, she couldn't feel more at ease, and she looked forward to the day when she could come home from work at the local hospital, find him waiting for her (maybe cooking their dinner) and then cuddle up on the sofa or in a chair and just past the time by chatting, or reading a book together. It seemed like the most natural thing in the world.

Her eyes caught sight of the clock before letting out a deep sigh. "I'd better get back before they send out a search party."

"You don't need to go now!" He teased, pulling her back into his arms as she tried to make her escape.

"I'm sorry Tom my love, but I really do! I need all the sleep I can get for tomorrow after all!" She gave him a flirtatious wink as she began to walk away again, this time without a pair of muscular arms pulling her back in.

"I guess so. Remember, eight o'clock in the evening, outside in the yard!" He smiled to her as she reached the heavy garage doors.

"How could I forget?" Her smile pasted on her face as she began to walk back up to the house. She wasn't looking ahead of her, rather looking at the garage behind her as she crashed into another human body.

"Sybil!" Her mother's voice echoed round the yard as the daughter's gaze snapped up to the person in front of her.

"Mama!" Her voice began to shake, "I was, I mean_"

"You were in the garage weren't you?" She really needn't have an answer.

"Mama it's not what you think!"

"You were in there visiting the chauffeur!" Cora looked a full 360° around her. "We had better finish this conversation in your room, quickly."

Cora slammed the door shut behind her as Sybil immediately sat on her bed. Memories of the numerous times here parents came up to her room and told her to sit on her bed when she had committed a horrible crime of the house and family, came flooding back to her. Memories from as early as the age of five, when she had stuck her finger up her nose at the dinner table, and the vivid memory of the night she had been injured at the counting of the votes. She had fought Branson then, and she hopes that she can do him justice now. Her mother closed her eyes before calmly speaking,

"Do I really need an excuse as to why you were down there visiting Branson at this time of night? Or am I right to assume the reason?" Her eyes shot open to give her daughter a look of sheer disappointment.

"Please understand, I love him and I'm going to marry him!"

"What?"

"We're going to Gretna Green tomorrow evening." Sybil fixed her gaze on her shaking hands in her lap; trying to calm them down.

"Darling I cannot let this happen! You're ruining your life! I mean, how…why…how did this even happen anyway?"

"Oh mama, you know we've been friends since he first arrive here! He proposed to me when he took me to York_"

"In York?"

"_and he's waited long enough for my answer, and my answer is yes."

"I can't take this in!"

"It's simple really!"

"Sybil, are you out of your mind? Marrying the chauffeur?"

"You know I don't care about all that!"

"Yes, but what were you going to do after you were married at Gretna? Where were you going to go? How were you going to live?"

"Please don't ask about our plans as if they were in the past tense!"

"Well then tell me your plans!" Cora yelled. Sybil paused for a moment. She'd never heard her mother scream like that before.

"We were going to go to Dublin after that. We'll find a house, and find jobs for us both. I'll get a job at a hospital and he'll get a job somewhere in the city."

"As what exactly?"

"I don't know, possibly a journalist, or a clerk to someone in Sinn Fein. It's what I want mama, please understand!"

"No it's not my dear!" Her mother came and sat down beside her. "Do you really want a life in poverty? Because that's what it will be like! There is still a war raging on over there and you'll have to face unimaginable horrors whilst being face with the real threat of danger every day. He might not find any work at all and before you know it, you're living on the streets, penniless and hungry with children to feed as well as you both."

"Oh mama, you always exaggerate things!"

"You may never be able to see any of your family or speak to your family ever again! How do you think your father is going to take this? It would kill him and you know that!" Sybil's looked at her with the vaguest look of fear as she took in what her mother was saying. "How are you so sure his family will accept you? You're the daughter of an English earl! How could they ever accept someone from our kind of background in the middle of a war, whilst they're fighting against others from our kind of background?"

"I love him." She pleaded again to her mother. "I don't want this life anymore."

"You think you love him, and you'll get use to the pace of things around here again. It may take a while to adjust but you will. Then you'll be glad you didn't do something as crazy as run away with the chauffeur! You'll find someone perfect for you. Someone who understands you just as well, if not better than Branson, and it won't be possible to live in poverty or in danger with him." To this, Sybil gave a short, slow nod. "Do you understand my dear? It may feel like the right decision now, but it will all work out fine in the end as long as you don't do anything silly."

"Yes mama."

"Promise me you'll call off this whole ridiculous plan?"

"Yes." Sybil sighed, before walking over to her window, drawing back the curtain with her finger slightly, and gazing out into the night.

"You know I love you." Cora walked over and gave a quick kiss on the head, before turning round and walking out the door.

Sybil spent the rest of the night, trying to convince herself that it was the right decision. She'll fit in again, she'll find another, someone who can bring her happiness and the glamorous lifestyle she had grown up in. It still hurt thought. She could still imagine the hurt she would find on his face the next day, the pain that would go on once he was gone, because goodness knows when she tells him no, he won't be able to stay. She quickly broke down in tears, and those tears would follow her to her sleep that night.

The following evening, she met him at eight o'clock, in the yard, with nothing in her hands and a skimpy cardigan wrapped around her. She could easily see the pain shooting up and around his body in his eyes, as it crossed his mind why she was standing so far away from him (in reality a metre, but now it seemed like a thousand) and why she carried no luggage. A lump formed in his throat.

"You've got nothing with you?"

"No." She spoke in a hushed tone.

"I see." He whispered, before closing his eyes, almost in pain. He began to turn around and head back towards his cottage, but was stopped by Sybil's pleading voice.

"Tom! Please come back Tom, please at least listen to me!" To which he complied.

"You said this is what you wanted." His pain was all too evident in his voice.

"I know I know. But please understand me when I say that I can't. I can't go with you."

An awkward silence ensued, as the tears began to build in both of their eyes. He shifted his eyes from her face and neither could look at the other directly, for fear of making the situation far more difficult than it had already become.

"I thought I could have this life with you…but now, I just don't think I can."

"Has…"

"Has what?"

"Has someone changed your mind?"

"Tom please don't make this more difficult!"

"Who talked you out of it? Was it Lady Mary?"

"No. Mama, saw me walking away from the garage last night, and she didn't talk me out of it. It was my own decision in the end." He gave a reluctant nod, before turning away again. "Please don't be angry with me! I-I couldn't bare it!"

"Angry with you?" A half-hearted laugh escaped his lips as he looked into her flooded eyes. "How could I ever be angry with you? It's completely my fault for being too idealistic in the first place; believing anything between us could work. Believing that maybe you could leave all this for me." He sighed again before saying, "Goodbye, Sybil Crawley. I hope you find someone worthy of your affections. Someone who will treat you as well as I would've. Someone who could give you the world." And with that, he headed out into the darkness and back to his cottage, leaving Sybil standing alone in the cold, with only a skimpy cardigan for company.

He handed in his letter of resignation the next morning, and before anyone had a chance to say goodbye and wish him well, he was walking down the drive with his suitcase in hand, heading off for a new life.

She watched him go from her room with tears in her eyes. She did not know then, that he would constantly be in her thoughts for nearly seven years after.

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**So what do you think? Please review!**


	2. I Think Very Differently Now

**Thank you for the wonderful reviews! They mean so much. I wanted to bring Branson back to report on a local by-election, but I was expecting that there wasn't one in the time frame that I had in mind, so I was expecting to have to make one up. However, I looked up the by-elections between 1918-1931 and sure enough, there was one in Ripon on 5th December 1925. I couldn't believe it! Anyway, we see now the depth of Sybil's regret and the awkward situation she will have to deal with.**

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_Early November 1925_

Sybil stood, with her clipboard in hand, watching aimlessly as her father, her dear brother in law Matthew, her two nephews Charles and Edward and Mr Carson helped pile numerous logs onto the ever growing bonfire. She was really supposed to be overseeing the arrangement of the stalls for this evening's celebrations, however, there really wasn't much to it; ordering a table here, a table there and the tombola here. Mrs Hughes, no Mrs Carson (she mentally corrected herself) seemed to have it all under control, and so she stood here, watching everything happen around her and feeling completely useless. She was once again reminded of that day nine years ago when she received news of Tom Bellisis' passing, and she felt something snap inside of her. The feeling of needing to do something was like a raging fire within her, and she found her calling in nursing. Her heart felt numb and empty now. No raging fire, no burning passion for anything, just a droning sense of regret. The letters _TB_ seemed engraved on her heart, and it hurt like hell.

Shortly after the death of the poor Miss Lavinia Swire, Sybil had received the most unexpected of proposals from Matthew himself, yet she knew that it was simply what they called "the rebound" , she didn't feel anything for Matthew and that Mary would never forgive her if she accepted. Clearly she had made the correct decision to decline such an offer, as she was watching him now with his two sons, she can't imagine a more natural and happy looking family in the world. Mary was resting on the bench close to the house, wrapped up in a blanket and sipping hot coco as "She had never been more ill in her entire life!" She'd told Sybil earlier that day in the most unconvincing of ill-sounding voices. She couldn't say she wasn't the slightest bit jealous of Mary, or Edith for that matter with all the male attention she was receiving at the moment (a stark contrast from ten years ago, Sybil thought), but any envy was soon quelled with the sight and the knowledge that life was going well for them both now. She was happy if they were happy. Well, she could almost be happy.

"Sybil dear!" She was broken out of her reverie by her father. "Come help us with the bonfire!" She proceeded to walk over to large group, put down her bare clipboard and started piling the logs on. She noticed her granny coming to join in as well, and smiled as she came nearer, saying,

"Granny! We could use with an extra pair of hands!"

"Oh no my dear, I'm afraid the hands are long past their best. Anyway, Dr Clarkson advised against too much physical activity if I'm planning on holding on much longer!"

"Mama, please don't talk like that!" Robert protested.

"Well somebody has to! I'm surprised none of you have measured me for my coffin yet!" To that, the group shook their heads in disbelief, until Isobel came sauntering up.

"Ah! I thought I would find you all here!"

"Well, yes mother, when I told you I would be helping up at the house with the bonfire, I meant I would be helping up at the house with the bonfire." Matthew smirked at his youngest, who let out a tiny giggle.

"Anyway, I came to tell you some news that I thought you might like to hear." Isobel raised her voice a little. "I came to tell you that apparently your former chauffeur," Sybil's face shot up to meet Isobel's, "Tom Branson, is on business round Yorkshire next week, reporting on the Ripon by-election that's coming up in a month."

Silence. That's all she could hear. She looked round at the group and could tell that everybody else had a pleasant smile on their faces, but no one was speaking. The next thing she heard was her father's commanding voice.

"Well, we must invite him over." To this Sybil almost collapsed on the floor from shock. Her father? Inviting the Irish socialist former chauffeur to stay? Her pulse quickened to the point where she felt it was going to explode and she wanted to scream out.

"That's sounds like a wonderful idea Robert!" Violet's voice rang out.

"I hoped you would agree to that. It would be quite nice to catch up with him after so long, don't you agree?" Isobel asked.

"Indeed," was Robert's reply. "Especially now that he is in charge of one of the biggest newspapers in Ireland, I think we should welcome him back to the place he called home for five years." Cora's expression was that of worry for her youngest daughter standing opposite her. She wanted to protest; to try and spare her from the awkward situation they would inevitably find themselves in. She couldn't speak one word out against her husband's idea. She may want to spare Sybil from that meeting, but to give away a secret as personal as that to the one man she feared the reaction from most, would be nothing short of betrayal.

"Will he bring any friends or family with him?" Robert asked Isobel.

"I'm not sure. I'm only bearing the news, you'll have to ask him yourself when you invite him."

Sybil couldn't bare it any longer. She had to get some space.

"If you'll excuse me, I'm feeling a bit too cold. I need to go back inside now." Her excuse seemed reasonable, but not realistic enough for her mother. Of course she knew the real reason. Sybil walked faster than she had done for seven years back up to her room. Tom Branson, of all people had to come and report the by-election next month. She thought that maybe because of Irish independence he wouldn't cover foreign politics, but no! He had to come back to England, he had to come to Yorkshire. Ripon! Of all the by-elections in the country, he felt he had to come and cover that one. She knew how their meeting would go. She'd give a faint smile and shake his hand, he'll smile that usual smug smile and give her a quick wink, she felt so angry right now. By the time her thought process had reached this far, she had reached her room and collapsed back onto the bed. Then he would introduce his…his wife…and children, and then her father will ask over dinner when they both met, and how he knew he wanted to marry her, and their wedding and when their children were born, and it will be some other woman with the name Mrs Branson.

A few tears began to form in the corner of her eyes when she heard a short couple of knocks on her door and her mother entered.

"My darling!" She came hurrying to her daughter's side on the bed as she sat up, much like their conversation almost seven years ago.

"To think, soon he'll be walking through this house again. Upstairs as well as down." Sybil's tears began to tumble over as she utter the last sentence.

"Sybil, you know your father would not have accepted the marriage, barely anybody in the family would have."

"You know that I wouldn't have cared about that. Not being able to see them again was the stumbling block and that hardly seems like such a big issue now!" Sybil cried, wiping away her tears with her handkerchief.

"My dear. To become engaged at 21, at the end of a world war and in the middle of a war of independence, to a young Irish chauffeur who had no fortune and no expectations," Sybil let out another few tears upon hearing those words. _Bet on me_, she recalled. She believed him, her mother changed her mind and now she wished that conversation had never happened. "You would indeed have been throwing yourself away."

"I understand mama, but I'm 28! Look at him now, with his large newspaper rivalling Sir Richard Carlisle's, his comfy house and secure living in Dublin. I would have been happy with him without all of that, and now my only chance of happiness is gone!"

"Has he written to you?"

"No, but I fully expect him to arrive with a smiling, adoring wife and a good few children. Not that I've had any conformation of that fact, but that is what to be expected with him! Someone as eligible and wonderful as him!"

"Well, maybe the fact that he hasn't contacted you since then indicates that maybe his intentions towards you were not as sincere as you first believed."

"Not as sincere?" Sybil rose her voice. "Not as sincere? He waited slightly more than two years for my answer and he was prepared to wait for as long as it took for me to give it. He was prepared to lose his job, his reputation and the respect of his family, like I was prepared to do the same with mine!" Cora shifted uncomfortably. She'd always hoped that her daughter had gotten over this affair, yet what she was seeing now was a love far deeper than what she had experienced herself on her wedding day. "I may not have looked it mama, but believe me I have been very unhappy, and I think very differently now from what I was persuaded to think almost seven years ago."

"Sybil darling, I said it then and I'll say it again now. One day you will find someone who will love you as you deserve."

"Oh but he would've, if I had let him!" To this, Cora gave her daughter one last hug, before getting up and leaving the Sybil to her solitude.

_5__th__ November 1925,_

_Dear diary, the fireworks are popping and booming outside and the bonfire is burning fiercely; another successful fundraiser for the hospital! As always, I am enjoying the atmosphere of the event from the peace and quiet of my room, but I can still hear the bustling crowds from in here. I used to enjoy this night like it was Christmas. The fireworks bursting in the black night sky, like some sort of beacon for the future; a symbol of hope for tomorrow. Now all I can focus on is the dark sky surrounding me._

_He's coming here. I can't bring my head around it, he's coming back here. Papa will invite him to stay and I will have to talk to him, dine with him, dance with him as if he were one of the eligible lords and dukes that I had to entertain on my coming out season. I mean…I know he's just as eligible as them, even more so, but it's the fact that I will have to see him again, after I broke his heart and broke mine in doing so. My only consolation (if that is what you can call it) is that I probably won't have to treat him exactly like an eligible bachelor, as I doubt…I doubt-I doubt he will be a bachelor. I can't bear the thought. He'll bring his wife…and his children no doubt! I mean, I haven't had any conformation of this, but of course he'll be married! Who wouldn't want to marry him now? I missed my chance and now I am having to pay the consequences for listening to my family over my heart._

_I'm sorry for all the smudges; It's not easy keeping the page clean when you're crying like this. Honestly! What's wrong with me? I'm surprised this handkerchief hasn't shrivelled up from all the saline it's had to take in._

_My chance of happiness is gone forever. I know it. I could never be happy with any other man. Even if he spoke words of equality and change, of devotion and love. Even if he had enough money to keep me satisfied and didn't quell my hunger to change the world. Even if he had the most beautiful blue eyes and a smile that could light up the world. Goodness, even if he had a heart-warming Irish accent and drove cars for a living! I never could be happy. It wouldn't be him. I wish him happiness and I wish him well, even if I can never be well again._


End file.
